


what you want and what you get

by kwritten



Series: Finding a Balance [4]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canonical Character Death, F/F, Families of Choice, Gen, Grief/Mourning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-14
Updated: 2015-03-14
Packaged: 2018-03-17 18:52:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3540287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kwritten/pseuds/kwritten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>prompt: Olivia, Buffy a decent meal<br/>summary: same universe as finding a balance and her bark is worse than her bite; this story is set at the beginning of S6 and deals with Buffy's depression and Giles' inability to deal and also a healthy helping of Buffy/Tara domesticity hovering in the background</p>
            </blockquote>





	what you want and what you get

  
  
Giles came back more tired than he’s ever really seemed before.  
Or maybe Buffy is getting older and she’s starting to see the tired where adults used to hide them.  
  
Something about losing Joyce has brought out the tired in all of them. (Something deeper even than losing her and getting her back. Something even more weakening than learning that Dawn isn’t really real.)  
  
Giles came back and he brought Olivia with him this time.  
Or maybe this time Olivia dragged Giles back to Sunnydale because he won’t meet her eyes and Olivia seems harder around the edges than she’s ever been.  
  
  
  
They all moved into the Summers house eventually, except Giles. Tara was already there because she belonged there. Anya and Sam started bunking in Joyce’s room during the summer because…and Sunggyu had put his drumset and bass guitar in the garage along with his futon after a time, and… well, it was nice to come home to a full house in a way.  
  
Even if it still felt empty everywhere she went.  
  
  
  
_Being alive is really hard._  
 _At least you got a nice long nap._  
 _You know how you feel groggy after too long of a nap, and you just want to go back to sleep? And nothing really seems normal, like the day is gone and it keeps slipping through your fingers?_  
 _Like when your foot only starts to fall asleep, but is just tingling?_  
 _That’s what being alive is like._  
 _Can I take a nap?_  
 _Yes. But promise to wake up._  
 _If you promise to stay alive this time._  
 _You’ll never be rid of me._  
 _Damn, you saw my Christmas list, didn’t you?_  
  
  
  
  
Three weeks and four days and two hours after waking up in a coffin and digging her way out of a world of dirt, Buffy sits at her kitchen island and stares out the window. Because it’s been three weeks and four days and two hours and she knows that. Because she’s not sure what she’s supposed to do now.  
  
Three days and twenty-one hours after setting foot on American soil again, Olivia opens the back door to the Summers home and finds Buffy sitting at the kitchen island, staring out the window.  
  
  
  
  
She thinks about saying hello, but it sounds hollow before she even begins it. She wants to ask where everyone is – the bustling house of teenagers suddenly empty – but is struck by how silly that would sound. It’s two o’clock in the afternoon and they all have school and jobs and lives that take place outside of the walls that protect them when they are safe asleep in bed after dark.  
  
She wants to say a lot, but Olivia is a woman of few words and Buffy is a girl for whom words don’t seem to matter very much.  
  
  
She’s halfway through preparing her mother’s special meatloaf and mashed potatoes and the no-bake cookies are nearly hard enough to eat when Buffy’s eyes finally focus on her.  
  
_Hi._  
_Hi._  
 _You’re cooking in my house._  
 _It doesn’t look like anyone does that often._  
 _Probably not. I’ve been out of town, so I wouldn’t know._  
 _You can’t know everything._  
 _I should know enough, I guess._  
 _Milk?_  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
The girls manage to tease Sunggyu into singing at the table until he blushes a deep, scarlet red and runs into the kitchen to do the dishes. They all eat with a vigor that alarms rather than comforts Olivia. Here, she had been so concerned for the girl with shadows under her bright eyes and dirt clinging to her fingernails, but now she can see that they’re all worn out. These children who save the world without being asked.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
_Where have you been all day?_  
_Checking in on the kids._  
 _What kids?_  
 _Your kids, Rupert. Buffy, Dawn, Tara, Anya, Sam, that Sunggyu-boy._  
 _They aren’t mine, Olivia. And they aren’t children anymore._  
 _No. You never wanted children. Funny how you ended up with so many of them._  
 _They aren’t children._  
 _They’ll always be children, Rupert._  
 _They can be yours, then. If you want them so badly._  
 _Please stop drinking and look at me._  
 _You could leave._  
 _Not now I can’t._  
Rupert laughed bitterly and disappeared into the dark hallway.  
_I can’t._  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
_You don’t have to cook for us all the time._  
_I know._  
 _I can cook._  
 _No, you can’t._  
 _No, I can’t. But Tara can. And Dawn tries really hard. And—_  
 _And there’s always pizza?_  
 _He hasn’t really been the same since Miss Calendar, you know?_  
 _Or Joyce. Or you._  
 _Or me._  
 _His life is littered with gravestones._  
 _Everyone’s life is littered with gravestones. Some people just like to forget._  
 _How do you feel about asparagus?_  
 _Mostly positive._  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Six weeks and five days and twelve hours after dragging herself out of her own grave, Buffy Summers stood in an airport terminal and said goodbye to her Watcher. He said lots of things that made a lot of adult sense and she nodded after each instruction.  
  
She was an adult, she could do this.  
  
She was an adult, she was responsible.  
  
She waved goodbye with a smile and didn’t show him her tears.  
  
  
  
  
Olivia waited in his convertible outside, top down and something poppy and British playing too loudly.  _What did he say?  
Lots of stuff._  
_Let’s get you something to eat._  
 _I’m not hungry._  
 _Yeah, well. I’m the adult. So I say we’re eating._  
 _Can it be something really bad for us? Like a cheeseburger with extra sauce and cheese fries?_  
 _Add in a chocolate shake and your sister and I’m in._  
 _We’ll have to wait for her to get out of school._  
 _Or pull her out early._  
 _Cheeseburgers aren’t exactly a family emergency._  
 _They are today._  
  
  
  
  
Olivia Williams never wanted children.

  
She definitely never wanted a teenage daughter with a penchant for death.  
  
  
  
  
  
_Sometimes the best things we get in life are the things we don’t ask for._  
_Who told you that?_  
 _Someone pretty wise I guess._  
 _Well I’m sure I didn’t ask Dawn to stretch out my favorite sweater._  
 _Are you going out patrolling?_  
 _Only for a little while. Do you want to come?_  
 _I’d only be in the way._  
 _Tara, you are never, ever in the way._  
 _Never?_  
 _Okay. Yesterday when I was trying to load the dishwasher and you were making Dawn’s lunch, you were in my way._  
 _I’m sorry._  
 _And three days ago, when I tried to wake up early for once, your leg had me pinned to the bed and you were definitely standing between me and sunshine._  
 _I’m the worst._  
 _Terrible._  
 _Awful._  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Olivia Williams never wanted children.  
She definitely didn’t want a whole household of traumatized teenagers incapable of even asking for help because they no longer knew how.  
  
  
Olivia Williams had a lot of things in her life that she never wanted.

And she was beginning to suspect that she had been wanting all the wrong things.   



End file.
